Ze Brows
by supremegreendragon
Summary: When England has his eyebrows wax, many countries find him hot. France does not approve. Warning: May be a bit out of character. One-shot


A/N: This is more of a practice drabble than a real story. I'm not 100% happy with it but I wanted to see how it was received. Own nothing.

OOC-ness may ensue. I do not mean to insult anyone by this.

* * *

Mr. Ward had been so good for so long but, unfortunately, he was mortal. England got the call that he retired, leaving him with only one option. He had to find another barber.

England sighed because he had trouble trusting anyone with his hair. Ever since France messed up the look he was going for, England only allowed mortals to do his hair. But their lifespan was just so short, it seemed that England would have to find a new one every other decade or so.

The call couldn't have come at a worst time. The blonde locks were splitting terribly and another meeting was quickly on its way. England simply couldn't not look his best for it, the other nations would laugh.

It seemed that he would have to face his fears and trust a complete stranger. Fortunately, he found a nice looking parlor with a nice looking woman. She had rimmed glasses and big poofy hair. England heard that many people liked this one, this Mary Portis. Well, he figured that she couldn't possibly mess up a simple trim.

Miss Portis led him to his chair.

"Oh, you have such a wonderful natural color," she gushed.

If she had been intended to get on England's good side, she succeeded. England liked nothing more than to be complimented by someone other than that stupid frog who only wanted to get into his pants.

"Thank you," he told her, "Just a trim."

Miss Portis looked at him for a long moment. It was almost unnerving that England was about to ask her to stop. Fortunately, she spoke before he did so.

"I can make you the life of the party."

Well, what do you say to that? England coughed.

"I don't do parties."

"You'll be okay," she reassured, bringing up the scissors.

England allowed her to cut a few strands, only relaxing when she stopped. Then she dapped something warm and liquidy over his eyebrows, then placed what felt like a thin sheet over one.

"What are you- AH!"

RIP!

The stinging sensation lingered as England saw the redness above his eye. He nearly choked out a scream. His eyebrow! It looked totally different. Before he could say anything, Portis did the other eye.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm waxing your eyebrows," she said simply, as if his shouting didn't faze her at all.

"I didn't ask for that service."

"Don't worry. It's free. I know that with a face like that, it had to be done."

England seethed a bit. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this infuriated. How dare this woman just do what she wanted without permission?

Portis took no notice of his dark looks, so he threw what he owed her and stormed out. This was exactly why he had to know the barber first before trusting anyone. Mr. Ward would never do something like that.

When he got home, he immediately turned to the mirror and frowned at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. What was he going to do now? He couldn't just skip the meeting, even though he really, really wanted to.

England sighed. He had to go and pray that no one noticed. That was his only choice. Hopefully, the meeting will pass without incident so long as he pretended everything was normal.

* * *

"Wow. Iggy!" America popped up with his trademark grin.

England noted the shine of surprise and admiration in them, a look he hadn't seen on America's face since he was a tiny colony. Still, the look America gave him didn't seem quite as innocent as he remembered.

"Look at you. You're hot."

England paused. America shouldn't say that to him, not after England was the one who raised him. He was saved from answering by a voice behind him.

"Vat's this about England being hot? Are you high or something?" Prussia asked America. He hadn't seen England's face.

"Dude! Look at him."

Prussia twirled England around and gasped. The ruby eyes stared right into England's green ones. England felt himself getting flustered by all this extra attention and the lustful smile on Prussia sure didn't help at all.

"I see why France likes you so much now. Who knew you could look like this?"

"France likes anyone willing to sleep with him for one night," England barked in a sudden rage, "And nothing's different. Just my eyebrows."

Prussia looked to be in deep thought. What a strange look for him.

"So, if you're not with France, vould you like to go out with me?"

Flabbergasted, England couldn't find the voice to respond to that. It turned out there was no need since America was quick to say something.

"No way, Dude! Iggy should totally date me instead."

"Excuse me?" England's face was blushing with a maddening red color.

Prussia glared at America, who only glared back. England wanted to get out of there but Prussia had a firm grip on him and now (oh boy) America decided to touch him too.

England looked back and forward between the two. He felt wonderfully relieved when Germany came up, looking curious.

"Please help me. These two are insane!" he beseeched the German country. Surely Germany would put a stop to this.

But Germany's shocked expression was on England himself.

"Forgive me but have we met?"

"What? I'm England!"

Germany nearly fell back in shock causing his elder brother to have a laughing fit. His fit of laughter did not stop him from gripping onto England, much to America's annoyance.

"I know. I couldn't believe it either. He has such a cute face, he'd give your Italy a run for his money."

Now Germany was the one who was blushing. He shook his head.

"You're wrong. Ve're not-" But he was interrupted by several other countries coming in.

Spain, the Italy brothers, Canada, Russia, China, Japan, Belgium, Hungary, Austria and France all came in. They also all stopped when they saw England's face. Some, like Germany, didn't seem to recognize him. Others stared lustfully. And France's jaw was all but down to the floor.

"What's this?" asked Hungary in a shocked voice.

"I'm sorry. Who are you?" Canada asked England without intending to sound ironic.

It was Japan that pointed it out.

"England-san. Is that you?"

After Japan's announcement, everyone came rushing forward to get a closer look. England flushed an even darker shade of red. He would have tried to sunk into the floor and hide there had he not been in a grip hold by these two idiots.

"Let go of me," he told America and Prussia.

"Only if you agree to date me," Prussia negotiated.

There was a flash of pure rage coming across France's face, though it was gone in a second and replaced with his usual smirk. England was the only one who saw the change in expression but he was sure it was there. What he didn't know was why France was so angry.

France forced himself through the crowd until he was right in front of Prussia and America. For once, he wasn't making any sly comment about England being in a compromising situation. He was too focused on the other two.

"Now, why don't you two let him go? I believe he told you that's what he wanted, non?"

But their grips only tightened.

"But Iggy," America whined, "You look so much cooler with your eyebrows looking so normal. I really want a date."

England hadn't felt so insulted since France proposed marriage just to save his froggy ass. He glared harshly at his former colony.

"That's not my problem. And why am I only worthy to 'hang out' with now? My eyebrows were fine the way they were."

Now Russia spoke up.

"Then why did you trim them?"

"Yeah. Why?" China asked.

Before England could explain, France let out a heavy sigh and gave England a look that could only be described as…disappointment? What was that about?

"Ze eyebrows were your most unique feature. Why did you feel ze need to resort to zis?"

England arched one of the eyebrows that was the cause of all this commotion. What did France mean by that?

"I mean, really. You did zis for attention?"

Of all the inconsiderate, heartless, brainless and vile things to say! England was red, no longer from embarrassment but from sheer rage.

"How dare you," he seethed.

"Yeah. I'll have you know I like how he whored himself out for attention," Prussia told France.

"You all can just go to hell!" England threw off the arms on his shoulders and stormed to his chair, "The sooner we get this meeting over with, the better."

There was a pause. But thankfully, the rest of the countries decided to humor him. England pretended not to notice the strange glances everyone was giving him, especially the ones coming from France. Though he would never admit it, France's accusation stung his heart. He never asked that stupid barber to do this. It wasn't his fault.

Halfway through the meeting, they had an hour for lunch. America was the first to launch himself at England.

"Dude, you wanna have lunch with me?"

His early anger with the other country was forgotten since this was the first time in a long time that America asked him that. England felt his heart flutter at the prospect of bonding with his pseudo-son again. America may have mentioned dating but surely he was joking?

Besides, Flying Mint Bunny's company was starting to become tedious. Not that England didn't like him but hanging out with America would make for a nice change in pace.

"Of course. But I refuse to eat those greasy burgers."

America didn't seem to mind.

"I saw a place that sells brick oven pizza in thirty minutes or less."

"That's where I was going to go," Spain said, making his presence known. It appeared he never left.

Prussia came up too.

"I vould like to come too."

England saw that France placed himself right by Prussia, looking everywhere except England. Was he that disgusted? England felt his heart tear.

"I zink we were all going there."

America glared at Prussia, who glared back. England decided to look away from France. Who cared what the frog thought of him? He was going to spend time with his former colony and not be alone for once.

"Let's go then, America. I'm fascinated to hear how thing's are going with your politics."

He followed the spectacled nation and the Bad Touch Trio were not far behind. America chatted until they were all seated, the Bad Touch Trio choosing a table right by theirs.

"And then he was like, Dude, I thought you knew her and it turns out she worked for the CIA. Then she shot his cat."

England glanced over and saw the the entire Trio were looking their way, France included. Prussia whispered something in France's ear and the other laughed, though it was obviously forced.

"America. Why did you ask me out to eat, really?" England decided to ask.

The question seemed to catch America off guard for a minute. He quickly recovered.

"I just wanted to hang out, bro."

"It has nothing to do with my eyebrows?"

"Of course it does."

He said it so bluntly that England did a double-take.

"What? It's really that important to you?"

America frowned when he saw that England was upset.

"What's wrong?"

Of course. The sod just thought he looked better with his shaved eyebrows. He didn't care about hanging out with England himself. Before he could stop himself, England shot out of his seat.

"I'm not very hungry."

He left despite America urging him back. He left the building and was halfway down the street when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. England was shocked to see it was France. And he looked really sad.

"I don't want to hear it," England began, "I'll have you know that this stupid new barber did it without my permission. I didn't ask for this, especially not for attention."

France's face slowly lifted to a happy expression. Before England could stop him, he embraced him in a hug.

"What the bloody-" but he trailed off when he felt France's hand on his head.

"Forgive me. I guess I was jealous."

Now England's face was red once more. He kept his head on the crook of France's shoulder so that no one could see.

France had been jealous? Did he want the attention England was receiving? Somehow England doubted that was the case.

"Ze brows will grow back soon, right?"

"It should only take a few months," England confessed.

France pulled away to look England in the eye.

"That's good. Now let's get something to eat. If there's one thing worse than you getting rid ov your precious brows it's you starving yourself."


End file.
